


U Don't Have to be Cool

by MellytheHun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Bad Flirting, College, Fluff, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt: If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you maybe do a fic where Stiles is getting hit on by tons of people at a party and Derek is awkward and jealous?</p>
            </blockquote>





	U Don't Have to be Cool

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [No tienes que ser genial ( TRADUCCIÓN )](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806109) by [Dixi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dixi/pseuds/Dixi)



> Just as a note, Stiles is intentionally problematic in this. His 'flirtation' can be construed as harassment.

“Is that the one that keeps hitting on you?” Laura asks.

Derek sips from his beer bottle, glaring in Stilinski’s general direction from behind his glasses. 

Every Monday and Wednesday, Derek has an 8am class. He thought it would force him to improve his sleep habits and make him a healthier, functional adult, but all it actually does is make him question the existence of a loving God and two weeks ago he was so tired he almost fell down an entire staircase. Now it’s a health _hazard_.

More exhausting than that, though is that 8am Bio Diversity with the short and balding Professor Wilkhiem features a well-liked and usually plaid-adorned Stilinski. Derek has heard Stilinski’s friend call him ‘Stiles,’ but despite his 8am class, Derek _was_ raised to believe in a forgiving God and thinks that if one does exist, it wouldn’t allow a child to exist under the name Stiles Stilinski. 

When Derek walked into his first class of that semester, Stilinski was there with his friend Scott and an obscenely large pile of sugar packets stacked next to a steaming coffee. When his eyes landed on Derek, Stilinski’s throat clicked on a swallow loud enough that Derek heard it from across the room. He worried for a split second that Stilinski was scared of him, but then a broad smile replaced Stilinski’s awe-slack lips and Derek got the idea _he_ was the one that ought to be scared.

And so it came to be that every Monday and Wednesday at 8am, Stilinski would make a futile attempt at subtlety and try to flirt with him (at least, that’s what Derek came to understand Stilinski was doing. A lot of Stilinski’s conversation starters begin with ‘did you know’ and end with the listener learning something they never wanted to know that Stilinski discovered while perusing Wikipedia at 5am.) or Stilinski would outright ask him out.

Every Monday and Wednesday, Derek rejects him.

It happened so consistently for so many weeks in a row that Derek began to think it was a joke.

He had been relatively well-liked in high school, so he was never on the receiving end of that particular brand of cruelty, but he once beat up a freshman kid who ‘jokingly’ asked out his little sister. He knows there are people out there that think that’s funny for some reason. He thought maybe Stilinski was one of them.

But Stilinski was _adamant_ that his efforts were genuine. 

After one particularly harsh rejection from Derek, Stilinski smiled and said,

“One of these days, Hale, I’ll say just the right thing and you’ll wanna give me a try.”

Derek scowled at him and said, “I won’t wanna _try_ anything with a guy who can’t take ‘no’ with dignified silence.”

Stiles had shared, “I’ve just always been this way. I can’t leave _anything_ alone. When I was seven, I sat on the bathroom counter wiggling at my loose tooth for four hours until it came out.”

While Derek hadn’t known Stilinski long, he could see the image clearly in his mind. 

Now, however, Derek is at a party in one of the dorms and Stilinski is surrounded by beautiful people. _Surrounded_.

He has that cocky grin splayed over his freckled face and it makes something in Derek’s gut churn the wrong way. 

A brunette laughs heartily at something Stilinski has said and Derek sighs, shoulders rounding up in discomfort.

He sips from his beer and stops glancing over at the couch where Stilinski may as well be holding auditions for his harem. He looks at his sister and says,

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Aw,” Laura pouts, “Are you jelly?”

Derek knows he can never lie to her, so he runs a hand over his hair and grunts, “This is so stupid. I don’t even know why I’m feeling like this.”

Laura’s face goes more serious and she offers sympathetically,

“He made you feel special. Now, you’re not special. I get it.”

Derek’s mouth tilts like she might be right (he knows that she is) and then he says,

“I’m gonna bail soon.”

Laura leans her head against his shoulder amiably and says,

“I’m sorry, Big Bro. If you want, we can go out for sushi tomorrow and I’ll treat you to that nice place you like. You can even get that gross dish with the eel sauce, I won’t make any fun.”

Derek gives her a weak smile and replies,

“Yeah. Maybe.”

She nods, pecks him on the cheek and then lets him walk past her. 

He resolves to finish his beer so he can say he met his social quota for the month. He’s leaning against a decorated wall, abandoned red solo cups balanced along the cabinet top he’s propped his waist against. 

Then a familiar figure slides up next to him.

“Hey, Grumpycakes. How’s that beer treatin’ ya?”

Derek shuts his eyes and breathes in deeply, counting for patience.

“Dude, come on — you gotta know you’ve got that Serial Killer look on right now. Do you know _how_ angry you have to look for drunk girls to leave a stud like you alone at a party like this?”

Derek opens his eyes to side-eye Stilinski. There’s a smile tickling the corner of his full lips and a red solo cup in his far hand. His cheeks are a little red.

"Cause you’re _crazy_ good looking. Like. _Outta this world_ kind of good looking. Like, no mere mortal gave birth to that bone structure — you were born from a beam of heavenly light, dude.”

Derek’s brow furrows, because he can feel the tips of his ears heating up and he wants to laugh and he hates that he wants to laugh.

"However angry I look, it’s obviously not enough to keep you away.”

Stilinski grins, somehow never deterred by Derek’s tone of voice and only ever egged on that he’s gotten a reaction.

“Nothing could keep me from you, Hale.”

Derek looks back at the full room and asks tiredly,

“Are you never going to give this up?”

“My father says one of my greatest skills is my ability to wear people down,” Stilinski beams, like it’s the highest compliment he’s been paid.

“What a shining review.”

“Thanks, man,” Stilinski responds, as if Derek’s congratulations were serious, “Although, I could learn a thing or two from you about perseverance.”

Derek’s brow furrows again.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you on the basketball team,” Stilinski mentions, thinly veiled embarrassment in his voice, “You’re, uh — you’re amazing to watch.”

Derek is torn between thanking him and accusing him of stalking. Either way, there’s still this roped up feeling in his heart he can’t seem to shake.

“You basketball stars attract a lot of campus beauties,” Stilinski continues with a mischievous tone, “Maybe _I_ should join.”

"Doesn’t seem like you need the help,” Derek nearly sneers and then he’s immediately regretting how much emotion he’s let show.

He takes another swig from his bottle to keep from making anymore of a show of himself. Stilinski’s head turns sharply to him, eyes wide and round. Then his expression turns knowing and he asks,

“Dude, were you watching me on the couch? Is that why you’re radiating Death Vibes?”

Derek doesn’t answer, just chugs the remainder of his drink, throws the bottle into a nearby basket and turns to leave.

The slap of converse follows closely after him.

“Hey, wait, man!”

Derek stops, adjusts his slipping glasses and turns to face Stilinski. He’s abandoned his red solo cup on the unofficial cabinet top graveyard, no doubt. His hands look wired and his fingers are long and look desperate for something to keep them busy. 

“I… I thought…”

Stilinski doesn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence. Derek sighs defeatedly, thinking to himself that Stilinski _does_ definitely know how to wear a person down.

“Look, I’m not good at this stuff,” Derek grimaces, gesturing vaguely at the party they just walked out of, “I’m not… I don’t know, I’m not _cool_.”

"Dude, you don’t have to be cool to - ” Stilinski stops short.

He clears his throat, starts tapping his foot and sings in this horrible, high-pitched voice,

” _You don’t have to be rich - to be my girl, you don’t have to be cool to rule my world, ain’t no particular sign I’m more compatible with - I just want your extra time and your —— kiss_!”

And that’s it. 

Derek gives up and laughs.

Stilinski is _so_ visibly pleased with himself, he starts doing this embarrassing, white boy shuffle dance and keeps singing in this silly head voice,

” _You got to not talk dirty, baby, if you wanna impress me - you can’t be too flirty, mama - I know how to undress me -_ “

“Oh my God,” Derek laughs out, “Stop, Christ, Stilinski, stop!”

Beaming excited, Stilinski asks,

“Has my undying charm wooed you yet?”

Derek schools his face as much as he can and admits,

“…something like that.”

“I can do more Prince, if you want,” Stilinski offers easily, “Although I had you pegged as more of a Manilow kind of guy.”

Derek’s smile spreads and he asks a little helplessly,

“What in the world do you want from me?”

“Honestly?” Stilinski starts, scratching at the back of his neck, “I just wanted to cheer you up tonight. You looked super bummed out and I didn’t have any ulterior motives. I just wanted to make you glad you came out for a minute.”

Derek nods, smiling at his shoes. 

“You can call me Stiles, by the way.”

Derek looks up again and asks,

“Stiles Stilinski?”

“No. I’m really just like Prince, I just go by the one name.”

Derek huffs a laugh, shakes his head and asks,

“No first name for you, then?”

“Unless you’re blackout drunk, I am not telling you the monstrosity of vowels my legal name is,” Stiles chuckles, “I can’t risk you remembering that in the morning.”

Derek nods, “Alright. Stiles.”

Stiles’ eyes twinkle a little and then he’s pulling on the hem of his shirt and looking at his hands like an embarrassed kid. It’s painfully attractive.

“So, if I’m past the wearing you down into believing I’m a moderately good guy part, can I move onto the process of wooing you?”

Derek smirks, crosses his arms over his chest and says,

“Maybe. How about you start with coffee on Monday, before class?”

Stiles’ blush moves from his cheeks down his neck and disappears beyond the collar of his plaid shirt. Derek is tempted to ask to see how far it goes.

“Uhm, yeah,” Stiles answers, “I’ve actually — I haven’t been drinking coffee in the mornings anymore. At least, Mondays and Wednesdays — I should probably go back to being a normal person like that.”

“Why haven’t you been drinking coffee?” Derek inquires curiously.

Stiles shrugs, his arms gangly and unable to figure out where to go.

“I, uh, I just get psyched about seeing you. I’m usually in there by seven cause I can’t stand the jitters.”

Derek leans his head to the side, contemplating Stiles.

When Stiles glances up at him from under his lashes, looking hopeful and radiating barely contained glee, he can’t help but think it’s the start of something beautiful.


End file.
